Paris Hotel

We had only been a couple for less than six months. Rochelle had just moved in to the apartment I shared with my adult son, and then immediately left for a six week trip to Europe with her grown children.

Six weeks was too long to wait, so we agreed that we should meet in Paris for a week in the middle of her holiday. Rochelle met me in terminal 10 at de Gaulle airport. She braved the Paris Metro on her own to make sure she was with me as soon as I got off the plane.

We talked on the phone often, but had not seen each other for three weeks. We were hungry for each other. We caught the first metro we rushed back to our hotel in Pigalle - the sex district of Paris. The elevator was not big enough for Rochelle and me and the luggage. So I sent her and the bags in the elevator while I ran up the four flights of stairs. I was so eager to be with her, I beat the elevator to the top.

We rushed into the room. No time for unpacking. Clothes flew in every direction. We were both looking for what we were missing for weeks.

Both fully satisfied and exhausted we fell asleep in each other’s arms - naked on the top of the bed.

When we awoke 2 hours later we saw that in our haste we neglected to close our door. From the old hallway you could look right in our door to where we lay.